


The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

by blipblopblork



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Asexual Character, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipblopblork/pseuds/blipblopblork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach Woods once posed the question in an interview, "Has Jared ever been in love?"</p><p>The answer, of course, is yes.</p><p>This is the story of five times Donald Dunn has been in love, and one time someone loved him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1996

Donald is ten, and two weeks into his third foster home. His new foster mom is okay - she works night shifts at the ER and during the day she's too tired to spend much time with him, but she always makes sure he gets breakfast and dinner and there's always lunch money on the counter when he leaves for school.

Miss Berry, on the other hand, is magical. She comes into school every day with a smile on her face and an apple on her desk (it's plastic, so it doesn't go bad). The whole room seems to light up around her as she teaches fractions and reading, and she's even willing to stay inside at recess and help Donald catch up on the things he missed from the beginning of the school year. She reminds Donald of Miss Honey, the teacher from Matilda, which he's read three times.

So at recess one day, (he doesn’t spend all of them inside - Miss Berry insists he go out and play a few times a week, so he can make friends at his new school. He doesn’t tell her that he’s happy enough to have already made one friend, her, and he’s not greedy enough to want more.) when Donald comes upon a group of boys huddled under a wooden slide structure. He hangs back, unsure whether his presence is wanted, when one of them calls him over.

“Psst. Hey, Donny. C’mere,” a boy with dark curly hair whispers. Donald had introduced himself by his full name on the first day, but if his peers wanted to shorten it to Donny, he didn’t mind. It was better than being called nothing at all.

Donald quickly clambers over to the other boys, ducking his head so as to not hit it on the slide.

“We’re starting a secret club,” the boy (Deshawn, Donald remembers) announces. “But to join, you have to tell us who you like.”

Donald is thrilled. Nobody’s ever invited him to join a secret club before! He grins from ear to ear.

“Okay, well uhm, I like Miss Berry.” he offers shyly.

The boys all laugh.

“No silly,” says Deshawn. “Who do you like like? Like, who do you want to be your girlfriend?”

“Oh. I don’t know, then.” Donald looks down at the ground, and pretends he hadn’t known what they’d meant all along. He hopes they’ll still let him stay in their secret club.


	2. 2002

Donald is sixteen, and he is in love. From the way every beautiful outfit she wears drapes on her perfectly, to the way she nurtures and cares for the entire crew of the Serenity, Inara Serra is the perfect woman.

While other boys his age lust after their female classmates, Donald spends his classes daydreaming about flying aboard the Serenity, about the adventures he’d have with the rest of the crew. He imagines himself a beloved part of the Serenity family - a jovial copilot to Wash, or getting soaked in engine grease learning from Kaylee.

Before long, Donald isn't just imagining, but writing his own stories as well. He discovers fanfiction.net, and then a Firefly blog ring, and before he knows it he's the curator of Stories of Serreynity, a collection of Inara Serra/Malcolm Reynolds stories with over 37 followers. It's the most popular Donald has ever felt in his life.

He keeps his own stories rated teen and below - it would be undignified to write stories like that about Inara without her consent, even if she is a professional companion. But as his site gains more traction, he finds himself receiving submissions from other authors, and of course it would be rude not to read them.

So he reads them. And he keeps reading them, branching out first beyond Mal/Inara and eventually beyond the Firefly fandom, with almost a scientific curiosity - learning more than he had ever known or even cared to know about human sexuality in the process. He learns terms he hadn’t known existed, and that people put all sorts of things in all sorts of places.

What he doesn’t do, though, is feel the things he suspects most people feel when reading these stories. He hears the other boys talking at school, especially in the locker room, about the things they do (or want to do) with girls. And he’d thought maybe - even though he knew she wasn’t real - that Inara might be the girl for him. But now, reading these stories, he realizes that he doesn’t want Inara the way that Mal or her clients want her (or, according to one author, both of the Tam siblings). So he keeps reading, hoping to find this thing that he suspects he’s missing, even without knowing precisely what it is.

He never finds it, and eventually concludes that he must not have been in love with Inara after all.


	3. 2005

Donald is nineteen, and he has no idea what the fuck this is. Not that he would ever use the word ‘fuck’, even in an internal monologue - but he is really, really confused.

It started on the day of his audition for the Joyce Carol Notes. He had showed up for his audition fifteen minutes early, filled out his audition form, and then waited patiently until a boy with a messy shock of brown hair poked his head outside the music room door.

"Donald..." he squints at the paper, "Does this say Donald Duck?"

Donald giggles a little - it’s not the first time he’s heard that one, and it certainly won’t be the last - so over time he’s learned to find it amusing rather than offensive. But then he looks up, takes a look at the boy in the doorway - and his throat goes dry, because there is something about this boy that would make him happy to go by Donald Duck for the rest of his life.

“Sorry, man. I forgot my glasses.” the boy says, earnestly. “Seriously, what does that say?"

“Dunn” Donald manages to stutter. “Donald Dunn.”

The other boy's (Matt - as he would soon introduce himself) eyes light up.

“Dude! Seriously? That’s even better...”

Donald looks puzzled as Matt continues. “Do you ever go by Don?”

Donald has never gone by Don a day in his life, but it’s light years better than Donald Duck, so he’ll take it. He tries it out, tentatively, “Yeah. I’m Don… Don Dunn."

“That is such a great name! It’s like you’ve got your own theme music! Don Dunn dunnnnnnnnnnnn!” Matt grins, and it’s like the sun is shining indoors. Donald - no, Don now - isn’t quite sure what this feeling is, but he knows one thing - he has to nail this audition.

\-----

He does, in fact, nail it (the audition, not Matt), with a hauntingly beautiful rendition of Sarah McLachlan's Angel. A few of the members of the group had snickered quietly amongst themselves when Donald had announced that he would be singing, as one girl rudely stage-whispered, the sad puppy song.

However, a hush fell over the group as soon as Donald opened his mouth, because there was something near-magical about the music Donald was making. It was a strange sight, such pure tones emanating from this awkward, lanky boy - but by the end, all jaws were on the floor, and Matt barely had to look around for confirmation before getting up and shaking Donald's hand effusively with a "Welcome to the Notes!"

\-----

The Notes become like a second (or well, eleventh if we're really counting) family to Donald. Family in the sense that they may not always get along, and sometimes there's a shit ton of drama, but at the end of the day - literally at the end of every day, the practice schedule was pretty intense - they all came together and made beautiful music. And for maybe the first time in his life, Donald feels like he's truly a part of something. It doesn't matter that on any given day, two of the sopranos might not be speaking to each other (and not always the same two), or that their beatboxer/alto soloist Soo-jin has slept with over half the group, gender notwithstanding. It's all magical.

And what Donald feels for Matt? Well, that may be more than just a familial bond, but he isn't quite ready to admit that yet. So what if passing Matt in the hallways makes his day a little brighter, or makes him walk with an extra spring in his step? That's just part of the magic.

\-----

Donald is walking with just such a spring in his step on his way to what he hopes will be another magical rehearsal, when he arrives at the rehearsal room door only to look down at his watch and realize he’s a full ten minutes early. He had passed Matt earlier on the way to chemistry class, and Matt had greeted him with finger guns and a “Don Dunn dunnnnnnn,” which seemed like it was maybe starting to become their thing. And Donald has never really had a _thing_ with someone before.

He’s idly wondering to himself whether there’s a clever but tasteful nickname he can come up with for Matt, because it seems only fair to reciprocate. So far he’s come up with “Musical Matt” and “Mattcho Man,” neither of which he really loves. He can do better.

He pushes the door open and is startled to see Musical Matt himself backed up against the piano in a liplock with tiny beatboxer Soo-jin, who, unsurprisingly for a beatboxer, he supposes, can apparently do amazing things with her tongue. Donald quickly closes the door - making an effort to shut it quietly so as not to disturb Matt and Soo-jin. He returns ten minutes later and pretends he never saw a thing, and if anybody notices his slightly red-rimmed eyes, nobody mentions it.

\-----

Later that night, it finally hits him. The perfect answer to "Don Dunn dunnnnnnnn" is "Nananananananana Nananananananana Matt Man!"

He never shares this with Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a slight anachronism here - did anyone catch it?
> 
> The ASPCA commercial featuring Sarah McLachlan's Angel aired in October 2006, while this chapter takes place in September 2005. I futzed around with the timeline a bit after I started to write this chapter (in order to make Jared plausibly experienced enough to be working for Gavin Belson at Hooli in 2014), but I wanted to keep Jared nineteen in this scene, so I decided it wasn't worth changing. So uh, this story takes place in an AU where that commercial aired a year earlier, ok?


	4. 2009

Donald is twenty-three, and by now he likes to think he’s got his life more or less figured out. He falls in love easily, and often - gender doesn't seem to particularly be a factor - but to date, nobody yet has fallen back. And honestly, Donald is okay with that - he's incredibly busy, serving as an intern on Nancy Pelosi's staff; he isn't sure where he'd find the time to date if he met someone.

He's walking through Franklin Square on his lunch break when he sees her - sitting on a park bench, reading a book - an honest to goodness paper book, a rarity in a sea of politicians and staffers flitting about glued to their Blackberries and Bluetooth headsets. And there's something about her - honestly, it's probably the book - that makes him want to sit down and talk to her. So he does.

He takes a seat a few respectable feet away from her on the bench, and checks his Blackberry once, nervously - both to look like he has a reason for sitting down and to make sure there really isn't any urgent business he needs to attend to back at the office.

He then, slowly, tentatively, turns to her and asks,

“Excuse me miss, but do you mind if I ask what you’re reading?"

She looks up, startled, and turns to check in both directions, as if to ask, “who, me?"

“Pride and Prejudice…” she starts, and Donald lights up, delighted. He has so many questions he wants to ask her, like if she thinks Austen was making a social criticism about the role of marriage in nineteenth century society, and whether Mr. Darcy’s first impression is redeemable.

He starts to exclaim “I love Pride and Prejudice!”, just as she continues,

"...and Zombies."

Wait, what?

"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies," she explains, is a retelling of the original tale, "except well," she laughs, "with more zombies."

And now Donald laughs, shyly, and says something stupid, like “that doesn’t sound too hard to do. There weren’t any zombies in the original.”

And as the two of them both explode into peals of laughter that honestly are probably overkill given the situation - Donald realizes with a sudden clarity that he is finally, for the first time in his life, in the middle of his very own meet-cute.

\------

Her name is Yael, and she’s an intern at the Washington Times. She wants to be a reporter, but right now her duties mostly consist of fetching coffee, proofreading, and fetching more coffee. She moved to Boston from Israel when she was thirteen, studied Political Science at Wellesley College with a minor in English Literature, and most importantly, Donald learns all of this about her over dinner. After Donald reluctantly had to excuse himself earlier to head back to the office, Yael had invited him to meet her later at a small Mediterranean restaurant on Connecticut Ave, where they now sit after a lovely evening of engaging conversation. 

Donald reaches for the check just as Yael, ever the modern woman, reaches out as well, and their hands brush. He blushes and pulls back, and she uses that moment to snatch the check away.

"Don't be silly," she says - with just barely elongated vowels that hint at her linguistic origins, "I invited you here. I'm paying."

She catches him so off guard that Donald emits a startled "thank you," and lets her pay. Later, he will chastise himself for violating the codes of chivalry, but for now, his mind is blank except for the solitary thought _"she touched my hand!"_

She smiles and continues, "I don't normally do this on a first date, but would you like to come back to my apartment?" 

When Donald doesn't answer immediately, she hastily adds, "We could have coffee or tea or something."

"I love tea!" Donald exclaims, and Yael laughs. He has no idea what he's said that's so funny - but he hopes he can keep making her smile like that.

\------

True to her word, she does actually offer Donald tea when they get back to her apartment, though a quick flicker of disappointment flashes across her face when he accepts.

He’s standing behind her in her kitchen, as she stands on a step stool rummaging around in a high up cabinet for tea. She emerges, triumphant, and then, sensing an opportunity, she spins around and plants a kiss firmly on Donald’s lips.

Donald is so startled he drops he empty teacup he’d been holding.

\------ 

After sweeping up all the shards of porcelain, and a thorough vacuuming (which Donald had insisted on, regardless of Yael’s repeated protests that it would all still be there in the morning), Yael finally asks Donald,

“So, should we pick up where we left off?"

Donald brightens, “you mean with the tea?"

Yael sighs. “No, not with the tea. With the, you know…” she makes a handwavy motion, “Look, Donald, you seem like a nice guy, but are you even into me, like, at all?"

Donald nods in the affirmative. “Yes. I think you’re great!"

She shakes her head. “No, I mean are you _interested_  in me? Or are you gay or something? Because right now I’m getting the feeling you’d rather clean and vacuum my entire apartment than have sex with me."

_Oh._  Donald feels like an idiot - he’s normally so perceptive of what other people want and need. But somehow, this had gone completely over his head.

He’s not gay, at least, he doesn’t think he is. But then an image of Matt, who he hasn’t seen since his Vassar days, floats unbidden to his mind, and he stammers out an “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe?”

She nods, almost like she’d been expecting that, and then mutters, almost to herself. “All the good men are either gay or robots."

“What?” Donald asks, surprised.

“Sorry,” she apologizes "it’s a line from…” 

“ _Me and My Android_. I know. It’s my favorite science fiction romantic comedy.” Donald adds, completing her sentence.

“Of course it is.” she sighs. “Look, Donald, it’s getting late. Maybe you’d better go."

So he does. And as he wanders out into the cool night air, he thinks about that line, _“All the good men are either gay or robots,”_ and wonders which one he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Me and My Android" is a fictional movie. I figured a lot of things exist in the Silicon Valley verse that don't exist out here (Hooli, to name one), so why shouldn't they have a sci-fi rom-com (starring Julia Roberts, of course)? The actual line, “All the good men are either gay or robots,” is a play on the TV Trope "All the Good Men Are Gay." I think I originally came up with that line in reference to a scenario another fandom (either BSG, Doctor Who, or Almost Human - I honestly don't remember) - but of course, I couldn't quote myself - so "Me and My Android" was born.


	5. 2013

Donald is twenty-seven when he spots Gavin Belson on the cover of WIRED magazine while in the checkout line at the grocery store. He had been vaguely aware of Belson before, of course - being in business development he’s familiar with all of the major players in the industry. But there’s something about that magazine cover, with Belson’s eyes closed, as though meditating - that makes Donald reach out and flip immediately to the interview inside.

Gavin Belson is _fascinating_ , it turns out. He founded Hooli in his garage with his best friend, and grew it into a billion dollar business. He’s a Buddhist and a fruitarian - not only is he spiritually enlightened, but he cares about animals and the environment too. He’s won awards for philanthropy, and he truly believes in his company’s slogan, “making the world a better place.” Donald is idly musing whether Belson might be interested in bird watching - and what it might be like to go birding with him, when a voice startles him. 

“Hey, you gonna buy that or what?”

Embarrassed, Donald quickly pays the cashier and hands him his reusable canvas bag. He purchases the magazine - even though he knows it’s an unnecessary expense and he could probably find the article online. He reminds himself that he works for Google and can afford to buy luxuries like magazines now, but he still feels a twinge of guilt.

\-----

Donald reads and re-reads that interview until his copy of WIRED is dog-eared and worn. Now that he’s paying attention, he starts seeing Gavin everywhere (in his daydreams, they’re on a first name basis) - on TechCrunch and Hacker News, on billboards - Jon Stewart just interviewed him on the Daily Show last week. And every time Donald hears him speak, or reads about his latest philanthropic venture, he becomes even more convinced that Gavin Belson is the perfect man.

Donald is self-aware enough by now to recognize this for the crush that it is, but he’s also a professional, and his professional admiration for Gavin Belson is unbounded. He would give anything to work for Gavin, in pretty much any capacity - he can only imagine how much he could learn working under such a brilliant mind. So when Donald finds himself doing the legwork for a contract negotiation between Google and Hooli that would bring Gavin himself to the Googleplex to sign, Donald realizes he’s got one shot to meet the man himself and make his pitch.

\------

Two weeks later, Gavin Belson stands on stage before a crowded room full of Hooli employees at their weekly TBIF (Thank Buddha It’s Friday) drinks and company announcements session. He gestures to a figure seated to his right, and announces, 

“Thank you all for coming. I’d like you all to extend a warm welcome to the latest member of the Hooli family, my new Chief of Staff,” he pauses for just a second, as though trying to recall a name, “Jared Dunn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TGIF drinks/snacks/announcements are a real thing at Google. I figured Gavin is Buddhist and just self-centered enough that he might copy the tradition and rename it TBIF.


	6. 2014

Jared doesn't fall in love with Richard in Gavin Belson's office. Well, looking back, years later, he'll realize that maybe he did, but at the time his admiration feels purely professional. This man, this tiny awkward man, has stood up to Gavin Belson (a man who had, disappointingly, turned out to be nothing like his WIRED profile) - a David to Belson's Goliath, and with the curly hair to boot. And Jared knows right then - he's been trained to look for these things, after all - that what Richard is building is the real deal. And perhaps more importantly, Richard is the real deal - he's not one of the guys Jared sees lining up outside Gavin's office every day pitching Tindr for puppies or some nonsense like that in the hopes of making a quick buck. So Jared follows Richard - out the door, back to the startup incubator, and into his life.

And what a life it is. For the next few months, Jared eats, sleeps, and breathes Pied Piper. No, scratch that - he doesn't sleep much at all - and when he does, he dreams of SWOT boards and scrum tickets - well, either that or unspeakable horrors from his childhood. When he's trapped in Peter Gregory's self driving car, he spends most of his time worrying about how Pied Piper is faring without him. Is the team still on track to complete all the front-end modules without him to manage the scrum board? Will Erlich behave himself in front of the judges and the crowd? And oh no, what if Richard accidentally eats cilantro before going onstage at TechCrunch because Jared wasn't there to stop him?

Pied Piper is something magical - and Jared will do anything to help it succeed. And Richard? Well, Richard is Pied Piper; he said so himself.

Still, Jared is surprised by the force of own his outburst when he finally snaps at Monica on the evening before the big presentation. Granted, he's exhausted from four days of being trapped in transit to a robot island, only to return to his beloved Pied Piper and find Monica undermining his role at every turn. Still, that's no excuse for his behavior, he thinks - it's just that the thought of the team not needing him anymore, of _Richard_ not needing him anymore, makes his stomach turn - almost as if he were Richard after eating cilantro.

And then Monica says to him, "Jared, I had _no idea_  you felt that way." And there's something about the way she says it, like he had just revealed a deeply held secret or professed his love for Richard aloud in front of an audience, that makes him think to himself,

_Huh, neither did I._

\---- 

After that, Jared can’t stop thinking about it. He daydreams about a big romcom moment with Richard - a confession of love in the rain (unlikely, given the drought season) or outside his window with a boombox (impractical, since Richard lives on the first floor). He’s suddenly hyper-aware of every move Richard makes, and bends over backwards to make sure every possible need - of both Richard and Pied Piper, is met. Granted, this is remarkably similar to how he behaved before - so, unsurprisingly, nobody notices a change. 

When he finally gets his moment, though, it’s nothing like a romcom - and still utterly perfect. It’s late one evening, a few weeks after TechCrunch, and most of the other guys have already dispersed for the night, but Jared and Richard sit on the couch, staring intently at Richard’s laptop as they discuss a battle plan and Jared tries to explain the ins and outs of VC funding. Jared is distracted, yes, by _brilliantperfectamazing_  Richard, but first and foremost he’s a professional, and what Richard needs right now more than anything is a competent head of business development, so that’s what he will be. 

Or at least, that’s what he plans to be, until he reaches over to scroll the page, only to realize that he’s placed his hand directly on top of Richard’s. Jared is mortified, already drafting his letter of resignation in his head and filtering through his mental rolodex as he tries to recall who else in the Valley might be looking for a senior business development professional, when he looks down and realizes that _Richard hasn’t moved his hand_.

In fact, not only has Richard not moved his hand, but he’s looking up at Jared with a smile that Jared hasn’t seen on his face since the stage at TechCrunch. So Jared decides to do something very very brave, and whispers “May I?” as he swings his other arm up around Richard’s shoulders, and Richard sort of nods and _nestles_ himself into Jared’s side.

And that’s it. There’s no grand declaration - no chasing Richard through an airport or up to the Empire State Building. There’s just this moment, and then there will be another, and another - a whole series of moments strung together until maybe they add up to something like a relationship, or perhaps even a lifetime. And eventually, of course, they’ll have to talk - about what they are to each other and what they want and how this will affect the company. But for right now, Jared just points at the screen and continues his explanation where he left off.

Except this time, he’s pointing from over Richard’s shoulder.


End file.
